


And plans never come true

by Columbarius13



Series: The sweetness of laughter [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Ovie is the Flashheart of the Hockey Fandom, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Columbarius13/pseuds/Columbarius13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, how did Ovie know that Sid and Geno had got together, when he made that call to Flower?</p><p>A snippet of the story from an Ovie POV.</p><p>ETA: Now with second chapter... more Ovie!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would advise reading Part 1 before this! 
> 
> Blame piperl for this - they wanted an Ovie POV, which sounded fun to do, and then asked how he had known about Sid and Geno. Well of course, I knew, but on a lazy Sunday afternoon, I found myself plotting it out and then writing it down... 
> 
> Unbetaed as the delectable holesinthesky is hung up on the 18k monster that was the intended sequel to this one... somehow this little bit sneaked in ahead of it.
> 
> In my head, all conversation between Ovechkin and Gonchar is in Russian. So if you think their English is perfect, thank the translators! =)

It’s the little things that nag at him, until they add up to something greater. 

_We have to do something Sasha!_

The text from Sergei is unexpected but Alex can practically hear the frustration vibrating through it. The only thing is he’s not quite sure what it is they have to do. He has an idea though, given who it’s from. 

_About what?_ he texts back. 

_He’s going to classical music concerts now!_ Sergei replies. Fuck, really why does Sergei have to be so cryptic? And what’s wrong with classical music anyway?

_Who is?_ Please can’t Sergei just give him a break and explain?

_Zhenya. He’s taking Sidney to a classical music concert. We have to do something about this pining!_

Alex’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline and he’s calling Sergei two seconds later. 

“Geno’s taking Sidney to a classical concert in Pittsburgh?” he says by way of greeting. 

Sergei groans. “I just told you that! It’s getting ridiculous!”

“Maybe it’s a good thing. It sounds like an overture on Zhenya’s part?” he says hopefully. 

Sergei makes a noise of exasperation. “It might be, if Flower hadn’t arranged it.” Alex is just becoming more confused, not less. 

“Marc-Andre Fleury arranged for Zhenya and Sidney to go to a classical concert together?” That does sound odd. Strange. Out of character for all of them. 

“Apparently Flower’s wife is making him go, so he invited Sid and Zhenya along,” Sergei finally starts to explain something. Alex narrows his eyes as he thinks. It still sounds strange, something not fitting. 

“I didn’t think Zhenya liked classical music,” he says thoughtfully. “He’s certainly never talked about it before.”

“Exactly. I mean, it’s something you listen to if you have to, but you don’t go to listen to it. “ Alex would beg to disagree with Sergei, but he keeps that carefully quiet. “But Flower got Sidney to agree so how could Zhenya not go?” 

“Sounds like we don’t actually need to do anything then. It’s not Zhenya pining more than usual; he’s just going out with some of his team-mates,” Alex tries to say reassuringly. Sergei snorts; it’s an old argument between them. 

“We do need to do something. They’re idiots.” Sergei is short and forceful. 

“I agree they’re idiots, but they’ve been idiots for years now. Besides, what can we do from here?” And there goes the old argument again. It’s not like Alex doesn’t want Zhenya to get together with Sidney; he’s just not as convinced they’ll be able to do anything about it, given the pair’s apparently wilful blindness about their situation and Zhenya’s pig-headedness and inability to listen to those around him who know better. 

Sergei sighs. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.” 

“I’m not going to hold my breath.” 

0--0--0

Alex is sufficiently intrigued to google the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra’s forthcoming concerts. The most plausible explanation seems to be an evening of Russian romantic music. Alex blinks at that. Fleury is taking Zhenya and Sidney for an evening of romantic music? That doesn’t sound like a casual concert to be enjoyed amongst team mates, particularly not with Fleury’s wife going. In no way, can he make that particular group work with that particular music. Unless of course Zhenya, Sidney and Fleury have fooled the entire league and things are a lot more complex than anyone realised in Pittsburgh. But having sat through enough drunken evenings (and nights) with Zhenya….. no. 

Inexplicable things annoy him. 

0--0--0

It’s over a week later when he gets another cryptic text from Sergei: 

_Finally!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

Alex sighs, wonders why it is too difficult to actually explain things by text. There’s nothing showing on NHL alerts to give him any guidance to what the text is about. 

_Finally what?_

_THE PINING IS OVER! Sid and Zhenya are a thing!!!!_ Sergei’s text seems to arrive in a millisecond. 

Behind the inherent grumpy complaint of wondering why couldn’t he have said that in the first place, Alex kind of can’t believe that text. They’ve been waiting years for it. Through what has now become known as the six phases of Zhenya; the ‘I have deepest respect for his hockey’ phase, the ‘I have deepest respect for his hockey and he is a really great person’ phase, the ‘I have deepest respect for his hockey and he is a really good friend’ phase, the ‘no of course I don’t find his hockey sexy’ phase, the ‘no, I’m not totally in love with him’ phase, to the seemingly stuck at ‘I’m totally in love with him but he just seems me as a friend and team mate’ phase it seems like they may have reached the seventh, and hopefully final, phase: ‘Yes we love each other very much’ phase. It has been a long time coming and surely, Sergei wouldn’t get his hopes up?

He hits call. 

“Are you sure?” he says, not even bothering to introduce himself. 

“I heard Sid complaining in the background when I was speaking to Zhenya that he had been out of bed for too long and that he should get back to bed right now - does that count as verification enough?” Sergei is grinning, he can tell. Alex laughs, a wave of relief and pleasure sweeping through him. 

“I”m glad that was you, not me! Oh, they’re going to carry on not being subtle, aren’t they?” He grins. They’ll think they are being subtle. They’ve always thought they were being subtle. “But how.. I mean it’s been years!” 

“Apparently it was at the concert Flower dragged them to. Zhenya was waxing lyrical about Sidney suddenly seeing him blah blah blah, but yeah, something at the concert finally made them realise.”

Alex shakes his head. “Whatever are we going to do with all the free time we will have now we won’t be discussing Zhenya’s inability to get together with Sidney?” He’s still grinning. 

“Probably complaining about how obvious and lovestruck they are!” Sergei laughs, before ending the call. 

So… Sidney and Zhenya… now a thing. Finally. And at a classical concert of romantic music of all places. Thinking about it, he realises it’s got to have been a deliberate ploy now; a go big or go unnoticed approach. He hadn’t realised that Fleury was such a romantic. Having played with a lot of Canadians, he didn’t think they generally had a romantic bone in their body. Maybe the French-Canadians… or maybe there’s a Russian emigre or two hiding in Fleury’s ancestry. 

The more he thinks about it, the more he sees how annoyingly good it was as an idea. If it hadn’t worked, the pair would never have noticed. If it did work, if all that passionate romance got to them - and it seems to have done, bless them, then they still probably wouldn’t realise they’d been set up. Only the Fleurys would appreciate what they’d done. It seems wrong to leave such a clever move to go unremarked. 

He texts Sergei. 

_Do you have Fleury’s number?_


	2. You did a bad, bad thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex really doesn't want to be the keeper of baby Russians throughout the league, but apparently he is. Which is actually a good thing when Flower goes insane in Boston.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That other Ovie-Flower conversation from an Alex POV. This one with added Flower. 
> 
> And that concludes the Ovie POVs - hope you enjoyed them! 
> 
> I do have a tumblr - http://whiteneckedjacobin.tumblr.com

It’s late and Alex has just settled down to sleep when his phone starts vibrating on his nightstand. 

The number is unknown - he stares at it a moment, wondering. And then shrugs and answers it anyway. 

“Is that Alexander Ovechkin?” says a voice in Russian. 

Alex frowns. “Who is this?”

“Alexander Igorevich Khokhlachev. Sergei Gonchar said to call you if there were any problems.”

Fuck Sergei. He seems to think Alex should act as the appointed keeper of all Russian NHLers. And baby, wannabe NHLers. Because he’s placed Khokhlachev now, and he plays for the Providence Bruins, with the occasional Boston game. Teetering on the edge of the NHL and will probably make it. 

He sighs. “What’s the problem and I’ll see if I can help?” Khokhlachev’s just a kid, and he has phoned a complete stranger out of the blue, so there obviously is something going on. Alex can’t refuse to help him, remembering how hard his transition to the US was, how alone he’d felt at times. 

“Yevgeni Malkin has been in a fight!” 

Alex tries not to laugh at that. 

“Yes, he gets protective of his team and drops gloves from time to time. No need to wake me for that.”

“No, no, not like that, I wouldn’t call you for that. I mean in a bar in Boston - I thought you should know!” All of Alex’s good humour dissipates instantly. 

“What the fuck happened? How do you know?”

“I was in the bar and saw it. Fleury - their goalie - punched out a Boston fan after he said something and Yevgeni Malkin got into it and dragged Fleury away.” Khokhlachev sounds breathy and nervous and excited. Alex can’t really blame him, even ignores Khokhlachev’s belief that he apparently wouldn’t know who Marc-Andre Fleury is, despite having scored on him many times. Because seriously, what the fuck? Flower is excitable and emotional but not violent. 

“What caused it?” Alex needs to know more. 

Khokhlachev becomes a bit more hesitant. “I’m not sure, but someone said he objected to them being called a bunch of cocksuckers and faggots?” He sounds questioning and Alex doesn’t really blame them. It comes with the territory as hockey players, from the rival fans. Alex can’t believe that Flower has never been called that before, not with the length of time he’s been in the NHL. 

Then the lightbulb goes off. Flower may not have been called that before when Sid and Geno are finally together though. Maybe a little too sensitive at the moment? And Geno was involved so could they have heard?

“Was Sidney Crosby there as well?” he asks, trying to sound like it’s casual curiosity, checking up on his putative rival, not giving Khokhlachev any understanding of dynamics at the heart of the Pens. 

“Yes - he and Yevgeni and Fleury looked like they were leaving - with some of the others. The fan and Fleury exchanged words and then Fleury punches him in the face and the fan is on his back on the floor.” Despite himself, Alex is impressed. He hadn’t really seen Flower as being able to do that. Goalies don’t fight. “Then Yevgeni drags him away and outside. I thought you would want to know!”

Bless Sergei. Because Khokhlachev is right, he does want to know about this. 

“What’s happening now?”

“The Penguins have left, the police weren’t called. But the fan is getting very drunk and talking about what he’s going to do next to fuck them over.” 

Alex sighs and rubs his hand over his face. It’s not his battle, it really isn’t. It’s not his team, it’s not his city. He shouldn’t care if it causes a scandal. It won’t be his scandal. It might even help his team if it causes the Penguins some pain, lets them get distracted. 

But it is people he counts as friends, and Flower, Flower got them together in the face of apparently wilful blindness for years. He thinks back to how the Penguins had played tonight, the way they had protected Sid on the ice and shakes his head. He can’t not do it either. 

“Alexander, I need you to do something for me. It won’t be easy, but I’m sure you can do it. You did exactly the right thing in calling to tell me about this.” He can almost sense the puppy-dog enthusiasm from the other end of the phone, thinks about how to couch it in terms that Khokhlachev will want to help. “We need to protect Geno - he’s one of us Russians and we help each other - there aren’t many of us over here. So we need to try and stop this becoming a thing. Can you talk with the fan and try to persuade him not to make it bigger, to let it go?” He pauses and waits to hear the response. 

There’s a touch of hesitation. “I can try Alexander, but I’m not sure if he will listen to me.” 

“Call me Alex,” he says without hesitation. Afterall, if they are doing this, then Khokhlachev has earned the right. “And remember, you play for the team he supports. He will love your attention. Sympathise with him for what was done to him. But remind him he’ll be at the centre of the media storm too… he might realise what a phenomenally stupid idea it would be to make this bigger.”

“Thank you Alex, I am Sasha.” Alex is impressed, proper manners from the boy! “I will try - if you say it helps Yevgeni, it’s worth trying.” 

“I think it is. Don’t get mad with him if he doesn’t listen, we can only do so much. But it is worth a try. Call me, no matter what time, to let me know what happens.” He takes a breath. “And call me if you need anything too. I am very thankful you were there and you are willing to do this, and that won’t be forgotten. You can call on me at anytime Sasha.” While he might get annoyed at Sergei trying to make him the Russian mother duck, this boy has earned his gratitude tonight. 

0--0--0

It seems like several hours later - but isn’t - when his phone rings again, Sasha calling him back as requested. In the meantime, Alex has been obsessively checking media and social media and miraculously, it all appears to be quiet. Even Deadspin, which Alex won’t normally go near, out of the irrational belief they’ll know it’s him reading it. 

“Alex, he wasn’t keen, but I don’t think he’ll make a fuss now,” is all Sasha says. He sounds tired. Alex feels the tension in his neck dissipating, sagging down with relief. 

“Well done! How did you do it?” he replies.

“As you suggested, but with a lot more dwelling on how bad it would, and some Bruins tickets thrown in for good measure as ‘recompense’ for how he suffered. The guy is a dick by the way. But he appeared to go off satisfied.”

“Thank you Sasha, you’ve done a good thing tonight,” Alex responds. He really has. Alex wasn’t sure if he’d be able to pull it off, but the younger players has achieved a minor miracle. 

The conversation drags on for a few minutes more, but Alex is happy to let Sasha go off to his well-deserved bed and, after one more round of obsessive media checking, head off to his own. Fortunately his training is in the afternoon tomorrow. 

0--0--0

The next morning he wakens and finds himself once again checking media and social media. Still no news on the incident, and it’s starting to look like they’ve got away with it. He shakes his head in disbelief - if he’d known it was still possible to do that, he’d have done a lot more things throughout his career. 

There’s just one more thing. He does so want Flower to know that this time, he was bailed out. He acknowledged that Flower had helped before, now he wants Flower to know what he’s done - is it too much to at least have his assistance acknowledged? Besides, he wants to hear more about that punch. 

He gets out his phone and calls to no answer. Tries again, shortly after… no answer. On the third attempt the phone is answered. 

“Hello?” Flower sounds so grumpy and, well, Russian as he answers the phone. 

“Are you completely sure you aren’t part Russian?” He can’t stop himself from asking. But it’s true, he does seem to share certain characteristics with many - most? - of the Russians Alex knows. “That was a very Russian response Flower! Who knew you had such a sweet punch also? I wish I had seen it for myself - you’re such a dark horse!”

There’s a sigh from the end of the line. 

“What do you want Ovechkin? To congratulate me on last night’s win?” Flower still sounds grumpy, only this time with an overlay of long-suffering. 

He’d been hoping Flower would ask though. He’d prepared, just in case. 

“To speak to my second favourite goaltender of course! And to congratulate him on last night’s decisive action. Although some might think that was a bit reckless, punching out a rival’s fan in a bar, I am appreciative of the principled stand you took against homophobia.” Alex is happy he’s able to get out the stupidly pretentious words, trying for honest delight and appreciation. 

“Thank you. But I did say….” Flower sounds as though he really doesn’t want to be in this conversation. 

Alex moves quickly to interrupt and prevent the hang-up. “Never to contact you again - I know. But this is such a special occasion because really, how often do goalies fight? And I really do think you are holding out on us about being part Russian!” He drops his voice, says a little more confidentially, more seriously, “Besides, I did owe you one for getting our little lovebirds together. Fortunately for everyone, Khokhlachev was in your bar last night, and saw the whole thing. Such a sweet boy.”

“What are you talking about?” Flower sounds pissed now, trying to beat it back. Alex grins down the phone. Keep him disorientated and off balance. Throwing in a random player worked really well! 

He feigns a sigh. “I’m trying to tell you if you would stop interrupting,” he says chidingly. “Imagine my surprise when Khokhlachev called me to say that Geno had had to break up a fight last night between you and a fan!”

“It wasn’t a fight! And.. why would a random Russian call you?” Flower says suspiciously. His reaction is pretty much all Alex could have hoped for. 

“Well no, it wasn’t, but only because you have such a good right hook. Who knew?!” He pauses slightly listening for a reaction - nothing. “Anyway. Of course Sasha called me - who else would he call? He’s a good Russian hockey player who knows his duty. So I told Sasha to sweet talk the fan. You’re lucky the fan is such a committed Bruins fan - he was delighted to spend the rest of the evening being commiserated with by a sometimes Bruins player about how awful the Pens are. But in the process, Sasha was able to convince him that making it public would not only hurt you - something he’d have done in a heartbeat, but also make a mess for the fan. Sasha is such a good boy. Real promise - and a good player too!” Alex laughs, listening to the sound of heavy breathing on the other end of the phone, imagining his chagrin as Alex recounts exactly what Flower wouldn’t want anyone else in the league to know. He can’t stop grinning. 

There’s another, small, sigh. “Thank you for doing that Ovechkin,” Flower sounds like he’d rather have swallowed his tongue than admit any gratitude, but Alex has to give him credit for being man enough to acknowledge what he has done. He’s not sure he could if their roles were reversed. 

“Awwww, the polite Canadian! No need to thank me Flower - what are friends for!” He says aerily. “But we may not be around to help you out next time, so perhaps - and I, as a Russian, really understand the difficulty of controlling your passion - be a bit more restrained in the future?” He really cannot resist the dig. It’s great to accuse others of what people have always complained about in him. 

“There won’t be a next time!” Flower snaps unhappily. Alex fist pumps. This is everything he hoped it would be. 

“Excellent news - so the next time I’ll speak with you is when you’re picking my puck out of your net! I look forward to it so much!” Alex can’t help but laugh some more as he hangs up, not giving Flower a chance to come back. 

This is a great morning.


End file.
